


North & Northwest

by Galen_Wordwyrm



Series: Scooby Falls [2]
Category: Danny Phantom, Gravity Falls, Kolchak: The Night Stalker, Scooby Doo - All Media Types, Scooby Doo! Mystery Incorporated (Cartoon 2010)
Genre: Character Study, Conversations, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/F, F/M, Haunting, Horror, pop culture references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22660951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galen_Wordwyrm/pseuds/Galen_Wordwyrm
Summary: Danny Fenton needs help fighting fiends
Relationships: Velma Dinkley/Marcie "Hot Dog Water" Fleach, Wendy Corduroy/Danny Fenton
Series: Scooby Falls [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862383
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

It was league night at the bowling alley. Lane One was the Mystery Shackdwellers- Stan Pines, Dipper, Mabel, and Soos. Their opponents were the Corduroy Loggerheads- Manly Dan, Marcus, Kevin, and Wendy. Mabel was her usual enthusiastic self, Dipper bowled not incompetently, Soos produced steady scoring, and Stan was doing his best to throw off Manly Dan's game with a string of trick shots and bets. It was working.

Lane Two was the Gleeful Noise- Bud, Gideon, and two of Gideon's hired thugs. Facing off against them were the Oddbowls- Old Man McGucket, Vaggie the bartender from the tavern, Pizza Guy, and Carl Kolchak. The Gleeful Noise was ahead on points, only just, and Vaggie cast a baleful glare at Gideon because she knew he was cheating. Pizza Guy had an arm like a cannon, delivering powerful if inconsistent, pin-scattering strikes. McGucket was throwing balls at random, but scoring well. Carl bided his time.

It was Bud Gleeful's turn, the final frame of the game, and his ball thundered down the alley, with the result improbably leaving the headpin standing alone in the center of the lane. Carl pounced on his chance.

“Say, Bud… may I call you Bud?”, Carl continued at the portly balding man's polite nod and smile. “How would you like to make a little wager?”

Bud was serious about his bowling. He was even more serious than Stan Pines about accumulating cash, by any means, fair or…not-quite-as-fair. Or legal. Carl knew Bud's friendly smile concealed a shark's morality. “Why certainly, friend! What odds are you willing to bet?”

Carl hitched up his belt, regarding Bud skeptically. “Twenty bucks, on five hundred to one odds you utterly fail to pick up that headpin spare.”

Vaggie facepalmed. Pizza Guy’s slice fell back to his paper plate. “Donkey banjos!”, McGucket hollered.

Bud nodded, adjusting his wrist and elbow braces. “When I pick up that spare, your vintage Mustang is going home with me.”

“Git ‘im, Daddy!”, Gideon exhorted as Bud lifted his customized bowling ball from the return.

Vaggie whispered fiercely in Kolchak’s ear. “You loco pendejo! Bud has been league champion for ten years!” Kolchak reclined on the lane bench, arms draped over the seat backs, an anticipatory smirk on his face.

“Oh how the mighty shall fall”, Carl preached. “Watch and learn, dear Vaggie.”

Bowling ball held just so beneath focused eyes, Bud Gleeful, Gravity Falls Bowling League champion for a decade took two curiously mincing steps to the foul line just to the left of center, and delivered a rocket, his post-throw form a textbook example of trailing leg balance and extension.  
It took less than a second for the powder blue ball to reach the defenseless headpin.

Only to stop dead with a resounding ‘crack!' on impact, then slowly, impotently wobble into the right-hand gutter, lost. 

Danny Fenton, pin monkey, dropped from his perch to manually reset the fallen pins.

Carl Kolchak, lead (and only) reporter for the Gravity Falls Gossiper, chuckled and collected his suit jacket, donning his battered straw hat at a cocky angle. “I believe that’s game, gentlemen. Now if I can collect my winnings, I shall bid you adieu”, he announced with a smile.

“YOU CHEATED!!”, Gideon Gleeful raged.

Bud made a placating, patting gesture. “Now, now, son. Mister Kolchak won the bet fair and square”, he apologized to Carl. “I don’t normally carry that kind of cash on me. Would you take a personal cheque?”

Kolchak smiled tightly, like a lawyer who knew his client was as guilty as Cain. “Not on your life. Cash. Now.”

Bud scowled as he retrieved his overstuffed wallet, resentfully counting fifty Ben Franklin's and a hundred Ulysses Grant’s into Kolchak's waiting hand.

Gideon glared cold hatred at the news hound. “You’re gonna pay for this insult to my family name!”, the pint-sized preacher promised.

Carl smirked at the incensed youth as he tucked the stack of cash into his inner jacket pocket. “That’s adorable. It’s like being threatened by a diuretic Chihuahua with hypertension.” He laughed as he headed for the door.

Gideon nodded, and his two goons rose and shadowed Carl with obvious criminal intent.

A black-shafted harpoon buried itself in the door between them as they reached to open it.

“Naughty, naughty, boys", Vaggie chided. She turned her stygian gaze on Gideon, who whimpered, consumed by the cavernous void of her singular pupil.

*-*-*

An hour after the bowling alley had closed, Wendy Corduroy lounged on the bed in Danny’s motel room, green plaid shirt unbuttoned to expose her white t-shirt, ushanka tossed on the dresser, freeing her hip-length red hair. A bowl of sweet and sour potato chips on the floor in front of her within easy reach, she snacked while she watched T.V., killing time while he showered. Danny had commented unhappily on the amount of accumulated dust and grime that had built up in the pin pits.

The pipes in the walls rattled as Danny turned off the water, emerging a few minutes later barefoot, wearing second-hand track pants and his own white t-shirt, black hair towel-tousled and damp. Wendy blushed when she realized just how she was thinking about him. She blushed more at the thought of him noticing her blush.

He rolled onto the bed beside her, head propped up on pillows. Tonight they were indulging in the comedic sarcasm of a classic Mystery Science Theatre 3000 rerun, ‘This Island Earth'. Wendy snuggled close to Danny's leg.

“Penny's worth?”, Danny asked as he absently stroked her hair.

“Tokens only in the peep shows, sir", was Wendy's spontaneous confession. She slapped a hand over her mouth when she realized what she’d just blurted out. “Ohhh-mi-god, kill me now!”, she begged as she rolled on her back, mortified. 

Danny snort-laughed, caught off guard. “How do you know about peep shows?”

“I caught a glimpse of my ex Robbie’s browser history" she moaned in embarrassment from behind her hands.

“Intimate mood. Dead on arrival." Danny was expressionless.

“Nooooooo!”, Wendy mourned. “I wanted make-outs!”

“I want mind bleach.”

“How do you think I feel?”, Wendy laughed. 

Danny grinned. “Scarred for life?”

Wendy flexed, sweeping her long hair so it wouldn't be trapped, and sat up facing Danny. “I’ll need immediate medical attention.”

Danny sat up, cross-legged. “No doubt mouth-to-mouth needs to be applied", he said softly.

Wendy nodded. 

A lingering, nibbling passionate kiss left Wendy breathless. 

“What about the movie?”

“Touch that remote and die, Fenton", Wendy husked, embracing Danny tightly, initiating another kiss. 

*-*-*

The town of Gravity Falls cowered under the shadow of night, dominated by the pretentiously extravagant Northwest Manor perched on the brow of a hill, where preparations were underway for the annual lavish soiree for the politically connected and egregiously wealthy.

Preston Northwest oversaw the provisioning for the traditional fête that celebrated his family’s ruthless exploitation of the local natural resources and working class with a tyrant’s eye, castigating the servants for the slightest error.

The lady of the house, Priscilla Northwest prepared the guest list with a vicious tactical precision. To her, the social season was a battlefield that she intended to dominate.

Abandoned in her room, Pacifica Elise Northwest awaited the inevitable summons by her parents, fussing nervously with her pale green gown, wondering if she would get it right this time. Her hair and gown had to be perfect. Her parents demanded nothing less.

The small golden bell beside her door jangled on its coiled spring. Pacifica flinched. She would have to do as she was. She hoped it would be good enough.

Show time.


	2. Chapter 2

Danny felt Wendy stiffen and tremble for a moment. His hands were tangled in her glorious mane of red hair, hers gripping him tightly as they passionately nuzzled and kissed. He leaned back for a moment to admire her, seeing her unfocused gaze.

A chill raced through Danny, and a wisp of ectoplasmic vapor drifted from his mouth.

Something was very, very wrong.

Instead of passion, Wendy now wore an expression of cold calculation. “No profit grows where no pleasure is taken", she recited, her own voice a whispered echo of sepulchral overtone.

An instant of understanding was all Danny had before he was catapulted off the bed, hurled bodily by Wendy towards the wall that separated the motel room from it's small bathroom. He almost remembered to go ghost. 

He regained his senses laying on the asphalt in the parking lot, human once more. The door to the motel room stood open. And Wendy was gone. He ran back into the room, grabbed his phone, and raced out again, pulling the door shut behind him. Powering up the device, he tapped a contact in the memory, cursing when it went to voicemail. 

“Velma? It’s Danny. I need you back in the Falls! As fast as you can!”, he panted as he ran, searching for any sign of his girlfriend. “Please.”

Where would she go? Not home, not if she could avoid it. There was no-one on the street to ask if they'd seen her, at least not within a block in either direction. 

He had no choice. He had to transform, to go ghost.

*-*-*

Wrapped in her bespoke tan London Fog trenchcoat, and her long blonde hair concealed beneath a mauve Givenchy silk scarf, Pacifica Northwest walked, actually walked instead of being chauffeured up the road to the dismal local tourist trap called the Mystery Shack. She was under strict instructions from her parents that no-one not directly involved in her assigned errand should see her mixing with the rabble.

She was a hundred yards from her goal when the voice came from behind.

“Excuse me", the male voice intruded. “Have you seen a girl with long red hair, wearing a green plaid shirt?”

“Jesus Christ!”, Pacifica barked, startled. She fumbled for the pepper spray in her pocket. “Get away from me!” All she could see of the young man was an outline of his shape, a shock of snow white hair. And luminous emerald green eyes. Somewhere in the rational part of her mind, a small voice told her human eyes don’t glow in the dark.

“I’m not going to hurt you", the stranger said, keeping his distance. “I just need to know if you’ve seen a girl with long red hair recently.”

“I haven’t seen anyone”, Pacifica said heatedly. “If you want information, go to the Gossiper, talk to the loser in the hat.”

The youth grinned. “That’s a good idea. Thanks for the tip.” He turned neatly in the air and flew back towards town. It was only then Pacifica realized she hadn’t seen him actually set foot on the ground. Disconcerted, she continued on to her destination, perhaps at a faster pace. 

She mounted the steps to the shabby porch, and knocked on the door, which was opened by Dipper Pines, who stared only for a second. “I need your help.”

“You’re the worst”, Dipper said with brutal honesty, and shut the door in her face. 

*-*-*

Danny soared through the velvet darkness, unseen, unknown. ‘If I was an old school reporter who lived alone, where would I go after work?’, he thought to himself, flitting through the center of town. A lone figure on the sidewalk revealed a flash of luxuriant red hair under the streetlight. Dumb luck had rewarded him! He landed in front of her. 

“Wendy! Are you alright? What’s going on?”

She regarded him for a moment without recognition. There was something strange, wrong, with her eyes. “I am but mad North-northwest. When the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw.” The polyphonic discordance in her voice unnerved Danny. What she said sounded almost familiar. What was he missing?

In a rush, he understood. Her eyes, the dramatic change in her personality. She’d been possessed!

“Wendy, listen to me", Danny pleaded. “Whatever’s happening, it isn’t your fault! It's not you, it’s a spirit controlling you! Fight it!”

A pulse of pale blue luminescence, and Wendy lifted from the pavement, her glorious hair flowing as if it were underwater. Not a good sign. “Most friendship is feigning, most loving is folly.”

“Let me help you!”

Scorn in her alien eyes. “The worst is Death, and death will have his day.”

Danny was scared now. “Who are you talking about?!”

“Golden lads and girls all must, as chimney sweepers come to dust!”, she cried as Danny felt himself seized by ectoplasmic force, blasted through the wall of a building. He skidded on his shoulder to a stop on the floor, fetching up against an antiquated juke box, human again. 

“Right", he reminded himself, “Rule Number Two: When ghosts start rhyming, it’s a Bad Sign.” 

“Danny?!” He looked towards the person who’d just called his name. 

“Carl! Am I glad to see you!” Danny rolled to his feet.

An elderly man wearing a fez and a sarcastic grin spoke up. “That’s a hell of an entrance, kid. Whadaya do for a second act?”

Kolchak tipped his crumpled hat back on his head. “Stan, meet Daniel ‘Danny' Fenton, late of Amity Park, now a temporary resident of the bustling hamlet of Gravity Falls.”

Danny’s attention was snared by the dusky skinned woman with white hair longer than Wendy's. “No minors allowed!”, she snarled.

Pale vapour leaked from between Danny’s lips. A pulse of white light, and he was a ghost again. Ectoplasmic flame enveloped his fists. “I don’t want to fight you”, Danny cautioned the one-eyed woman. “Let me leave with Carl.”

Vaggie smiled. “And what it Carl doesn’t feel like leaving?”

Kolchak was becoming annoyed. “Danny, what the hell has gotten into you?”

“Carl, the woman behind the bar isn’t what you think. She’s dangerous”, the phantasmal youth explained.

Kolchak was unimpressed. “Kid, you think I don’t know she’s dangerous? She pulled a machete on Stan and me two weeks ago.”

“Carl, I don’t have time to explain. Wendy's in trouble. She’s been possessed!”

Stan and Carl looked alarmed, for different reasons. Vaggie facepalmed. “Dio mios, no necesito esta mierda ahora", she muttered. 

“What makes you think she’s possessed, ghost boy?”, Stan demanded.

“When’s the last time she levitated and started quoting Shakespeare?”, Danny asked in turn.

“You're right”, Stan admitted deadpan. “She’s possessed.”

“Shakespeare?”, Kolchak probed, curiosity piqued. “Can you remember, precisely, what she said?”

“Something about North-northwest, hawks and handsaws”, Danny supplied. “And golden lads and girls, and chimney sweepers. Does it mean something?”

It was Vaggie who spoke up. ”It means that the Northwest family is in a lot of trouble.”

“That figures", Stan chuckled. 

“What kind of trouble?”, Carl asked. “And how do you know?”

Vaggie sighed, half annoyed, half resigned. “The Northwest family have spent generations building their fortune by treachery, theft, murder, and deceit”, she explained. “Blackmail and cruelty are mothers milk to them.”

“How utterly charming.” You could cut yourself on the sarcastic edge in Carl’s voice. “Come on, Danny. We’re going to immerse ourselves in the depths of local history, if we want a chance of identifying the offended party.” He peeled off a single fifty dollar bill won earlier in the evening. “That should keep Stan out of trouble.”

“I wouldn’t count on it", Stan leered.

Danny followed Carl next door to the Gossiper, impatient while Kolchak unlocked and opened the door. “What now?”

“Now we go through the morgue”, Carl said, hanging his suit coat up.

“The morgue? You mean dead people?” For the handful of times Danny had combated malign entities, the thought of a human corpse still unnerved him.

“A term of art, used in the publishing trade”, Kolchak explained. “Back issues in the newspaper archive.”

Danny groaned in frustration. Homework, or the equivalent to it. “I should be out there, looking for Wendy!”

Carl turned on Danny. “From the looks of things, whatever or whoever is possessing your attractive young lady friend rather easily handed you your behind. Do you want to go charging in blind for round two?”

“Three", Danny admitted, chastened. “It would be round three.” A sigh of acceptance at Carl’s smirk. “Alright, let’s get started. I’ll take the year 2000 and work forward.”

“That’s the spirit!”, Carl grinned.

*-*-*

“Velma…”, Marcie’s sleepy voice awakened her. “Your phone…”

Velma Dinkley blinked in the almost dark of the Mystery Machine, a warm, delightfully feminine presence snuggled against her back, and reached for the blinking beacon of her phone. Activating it, she retrieved the message from Danny, frowning in concern at the edge of panic in his voice.  
Velma had parked for the night in Salem, Oregon. Consulting a map called up on her phone, it was over an hours drive back to Gravity Falls. She rolled over in the confines of the narrow bed. Marcie grumbled, half-awake.

“Wake up. Danny needs our help.”

Marcie slipped her arm around Velma's waist, trailing fingertips along her spine. “Ten more minutes?”

Velma felt a lascivious heat kindle. “If you keep that up, you’re going to tempt me into misbehaving.”

“Tempt, tempt, tempt", Marcie sleepily teased as she gently kissed Velma’s shoulder. “If you surrender to my temptations, I’ll buy breakfast at Yumberjacks.”

Velma put her phone back in it's cubby hole with a smile.


	3. Chapter 3

The hardbound back editions of the Gravity Falls Gossiper were haphazardly stacked on any flat surface, be it desk, shelf, or floor. Danny’s eyes were burning from fatigue. Kolchak scrubbed at the dry stubble on his own face in an attempt to stave off weariness. The search had expanded, with Danny consulting online sources to hunt down victims of Northwest family treachery. There wereca lot of them.

Carl sipped oily lukewarm office coffee from a Styrofoam cup, eyes flicking over ancient copy, when a story fragment caught his eye. He flipped back a page, leaning forward to read the details. A flash of insight, and he started hunting through the stacks of bound books, muttering.

Danny looked up from his seemingly dead end search. “You found something?”

“Where is it? Where is it?”, Carl fussed.

“What are you looking for?”

“Gossiper, Spring, 1937", Carl said. Danny spotted it perched atop the water cooler, and handed it over. Carl barked in triumph, flipping through the yellowed pages quickly, scanning. “Aha! Got it! April 4th, 1937!” 

“What’s so special about that day?”

Kolchak pointed at the article. “Guildenstern Northwest, then thirty-two, grandfather of Preston Northwest, was suspected in the disappearance of one Deirdre ‘D. C.’ Corduroy, who was a noted Shakespearean actress and veteran of the West Coast vaudeville circuit at the tender age of twenty-three, and went missing after a private performance at Northwest Manor. Miss Corduroy was last seen dining with Northwest at The Club restaurant, prior to her engagement at the manor.” Carl turned the volume so Danny could see a publicity still of the actress. 

“She’s a dead ringer for Wendy.”

“Emphasis on ‘dead’”, Carl agreed. “It’s been seventy-five years since her disappearance and presumed murder. So why come back and possess your girlfriend now?”

Danny flipped through Toby Determined's desk calendar. Other than tomorrow being the annual Northwest Fest, some kind of party at the mansion, there was nothing special happening. “Do you think this has something to do with it?”

Kolchak inspected the note. “One hundred and fiftieth annual Northwest Fest, still no invitation to the town”, he read. “We need to find an expert on town history, and fast.”

Danny looked out the window. Dawn was breaking.

*-*-*

She didn’t like it here.

It was dark. And confined. She couldn't catch her breath. 

She strained, attempting to break free.

The Other didn’t like that.

*Be still!*, the Other commanded. *It will all be over with soon.* 

‘Let me go!’, she demanded. ‘Cause if I get loose, I’m gonna tear you a new one!’

*Such language!*, the Other tutted. *To be expected from such an ill-disciplined young woman, but not tolerated.* 

Bolts of agony seared her. 

‘You hit like a bitch', she panted when the pain passed.

More agony.

*Language!*, the Other warned. *Given your alley-cat morals, I shouldn’t be surprised, though.*

‘What are you talking about, dude?’, she demanded. 

*As If you didn’t know*, the Other accused. *Flaunting yourself to all those boys, making a spectacle of yourself! You’ve brought nothing but shame to the family! It’s a good thing I took over when I did!* 

‘Whose family?’

*Why, our family of course*, the Other replied. 

She blinked. Or thought she did. ‘The Corduroys? And what do you mean, took over?’

A puff of pale blue flame, and an ornate ebony metal Art Deco mirror frame appeared in front of her, her reflection staring back at her.

No. Not her reflection. The face in the mirror was older, the eyes harder, sterner. ‘Who are you, man?’ 

The Other looked offended. *So they forgot me. Typical of those ignorant tree-felling louts. Maybe I should pay a visitation once we're done with those parasites on the hill.*

‘Parasites on the hill? You mean the North-' Agony burned her to ash.

*You will not speak that accursed name!*, the Other bellowed. *It is as forbidden as the Scottish Play!*

*-*-*

The door opened after Kolchak had knocked for the third time. 

“Yes?”, the withered old lady who answered the door asked.

Carl tipped his hat politely. “Good morning. I hope we’re not disturbing you.”

“Not interested.” The door closed abruptly. Carl knocked again.

“I told you, we're not interested!”

“If you could give us a moment to explai-", Kolchak began again.

“We're looking for Eugenia Krebs, town historian", Danny interrupted. “It’s a matter of life and death!“ Kolchak smiled sarcastically at him. The old woman’s demeanor changed immediately. 

“Why didn’t you say so in the first place? Ma! You’ve got company!” The door opened wide, the old woman ushering them into an underworld of chintz, lace doilies, and antique furniture. “Tea?”

“Thank you, no", Kolchak declined politely as he sat on the edge of a plush purple velvet upholstered chair that had been new when Teddy Roosevelt had charged up San Juan Hill. 

Danny perched on a red velvet ottoman. “I'd love some”, Danny agreed. Kolchak glared at him, lifting a hand in a ‘what are you doing?!’ gesture. Danny grinned.

So, what do you want to know?”, inquired the ramrod straight old woman in a dress a century out of fashion, hair in an elaborate Edwardian bun.

“What do you know about the disappearance of the actress, Deirdre Corduroy? “, Stan replied as she took a seat in a cobalt blue chintz wingback chair.

Mrs. Krebs waited while tea was poured.

“Deirdre was a headstrong, and talented, young woman. And much too good for this town”, Mrs. Krebs began. “She excelled in school, and attended Juilliard on a scholarship, with a Masters in English Literature. But her first love had always been Shakespeare and the theater. 

While she auditioned for theatre companies that played on Broadway and in London's West End, Deirdre performed on the West Coast Orpheum circuit to pay the bills, making a name for herself, and bringing no small amount of recognition to her home town.”

“Gravity Falls”, Kolchak remarked.

“Gravity Falls”, Mrs. Krebs agreed. “Eventually, she attracted the attention of the heir to the Northwest family fortune, Guildenstern Northwest, who was still an eligible bachelor at the time. He thought that Deirdre would be a suitably acceptable match to his parents, hoping they would overlook her common working class roots in favor of her beauty, burgeoning fame, and no small amount of personal wealth she had accumulated while treading the boards.

Guildenstern invited her to dinner at Gravity Falls most exclusive restaurant, to be followed by a private exhibition of her talents to his parents, after which he intended to propose. Deirdre, though flattered by the proposal, in all likelihood declined.”

“Her acting career would have been over", Carl deduced.

“Correct, Mister Kolchak”, the elderly matron said, smiling when he looked at her, surprised she knew his name. “Oh yes, I know who you are. I recognised you the moment I laid eyes on you. You’re looking rather spry for a nonagenarian.” Mrs. Krebs sipped her tea, a coy smile verging on smug.

Kolchak cleared his throat, discomfited. “Getting back to Deirdre Corduroy…”, he hinted.

Mrs. Krebs placed her gold-rimmed teacup it’s matching saucer, and put both on the decorative occasional table beside her chair. “Guildenstern Northwest was typical of his family: avaricious, acquisitive, possessive. And foul-tempered when denied. Deirdre disappeared, after her dinner with Guildenstern, and the next week, the foundation for a new wing of the mansion was laid. It was suspected at the time that the addition was Deirdre's tombstone.”

“What does the Northwest Fest have to do with any of this?”, Danny asked.

“Oh that. One hundred and fifty years ago, Nathaniel Northwest had the local labor build the original mansion, with a promise that the workers would be invited to a celebratory ball”, Mrs. Krebs explained. “Except he reneged, and the leader of the lumbermen, Archibald Corduroy died in the mudslides of the Great Flood, cursing the Northwest name.” 

“Is there anyone in town who doesn’t want the Northwest’s dead?”, Kolchak queried, slightly incredulous.

Mrs. Krebs sipped her tea. “Money buys many friends, as I’m sure you know, Mister Kolchak.”

Carl grunted in agreement.


	4. Chapter 4

Carl exhaled through pursed lips. “Well, that was both horrifying and illuminating. Your girlfriend is possessed by the spirit of a Shakespeare-obsessed ancestor who was murdered by the grandfather of the town’s wealthiest citizen. You sure can pick ‘em, kid”, he announced with an admiring shake of his head, steering his vintage ’66 Mustang Convertible through the quiet morning streets of Gravity Falls. 

“You’re all heart, Carl.” Danny slumped lower in the passenger seat, arms crossed.

Kolchak grinned, slapping Danny’s thigh with the back of his hand encouragingly. “Cheer up! The way I see it, there’s two, maybe three ways we go about saving Wendy.”

“Uh huh.” The doubt in Danny’s voice verged on open scorn.

“One: we convince a priest to perform the full Roman Rite of exorcism”, Carl explained.

“Downside?”

“We need permission from the Pope”, Kolchak admitted, dubious.

“Not gonna happen.”

“Two: We perform the exorcism ourselves, and hope no-one dies.” Carl cleared his throat. “This time.”

“Why am I listening to you? Seriously.”

Carl pushed on. “Three, we gain access to Northwest Manor during the biggest social event of the year, in hopes of locating the mortal remains of one Deirdre Corduroy, deceased actress and unquiet spirit, and grant her eternal rest by performing last rites for her.”

“That last one almost sounds not completely insane, Carl. I think we might have a chance of—pull over! Now!”, Danny yelped, pointing.

Carl slammed on the brakes, swerving to the curb. “What the hell, Danny?” Then he saw what had gotten Danny so flustered.

The Mystery Machine. In the Yumberjacks parking lot. Or rather TWO Mystery Machines. One classic, one more modern. A quick shoulder check, and Carl cut the wheel hard, making a u-turn to enter the parking lot.

*-*-*

Melody, long honey brown hair in a ponytail, eyed the group in the large corner booth dubiously . Two young women, one dark auburn with black rimmed glasses sat close to a taller woman perhaps a few years younger, her dark wavy brunette hair held back by red barrettes, wearing red glasses with yellow lenses that highlighted remarkable violet eyes. Next them sat an attractive blond man in his late twenties who fiddled with an expensive looking Blackmagic digital video camera, and next to him was a striking redheaded woman who also had violet eyes, stylishly dressed in contrasting shades of purple and pink. The last man at the table had unkempt sand colored hair, a scraggly goatee, dressed in a bright olive t-shirt and tan cargo pants.

It was the Great Dane seated at the table that looked out of place. But the manager took one look at the man and his dog, and announced that they were allowed in, and their bill was on the house. 

The younger brunette was regarding all but her glasses-wearing dining companion with something like suspicion. Melody sympathized with her.

“So what are you doing in Gravity Falls, guys?”, Velma inquired, more than a little confused.

“Like, my boss wanted me to get in on the whole cable roadside diner review gig", Norville ‘Shaggy’ Rogers enthused. “He just about flipped his wig when he heard I knew Daphne. Next thing I know, he’s pitching the idea for ‘Mystery Meals: Haunted Eateries of America’ to the Gourmet Channel, and we’re on the road!”, he laughed nervously.

“After the Haunted Cafeteria of Casper High episode in Amity Park aired, the ratings went through The roof", Daphne Blake explained. “The execs are talking a three season extension, as long as we can keep finding haunted hotels and restaurants. And Gravity Falls has a reputation.”

“Yeah", Shaggy laughed “Of not even being on the map! What kind of weirdo-spooky place is this?”

“We could really use you back on the team, Velma", Fred offered.

Velma sipped her tea. She felt Marcie’s hand tighten on hers anxiously, out of sight under the table. She took a deep breath, having made her decision.

“No.”

“What?!” Disbelief in her friends voices. “Aroo?!”, said Scooby.

Velma set her tea mug on the table. “Mystery Incorporated was fun while it lasted. And I’m really happy that you all found careers doing something you love because of it. But…times change. People grow up.”

Velma brought Marcie’s hand in hers onto the table. “Daph, you and Fred have each other. You always have. Shaggy has Scooby. And Madelyn, if he ever paid attention to her instead of food.” Velma caressed Marcie's knuckles with her other hand. “I found Marcie. Or rather, she set up a scenario she knew I wouldn’t be able to resist, and we found each other. Wherever she is, that’s my home.” 

Velma looked up at her friends. They were all smiling fondly, if a bit sadly.

“It won’t be the same without you, Velm", Shaggy said, subdued. 

“Ohmigosh!”, Daphne said, waving away happy tears. “I call bridesmaid!”

“What?” Marcie was stunned. 

Scooby rounded the table, rearing up to embrace Marcie. “Roh, rit's so Reautirul!”, he blubbered.

“What?”, Marcie repeated, thoroughly confused. “Did you just propose to me, V?”

“Yes. Now kiss me.” 

Marcie enthusiastically obliged.

“Hey-hey", Danny announced. “Someone looks like they have some good news.” Then he recognised who was seated at the table. “Oh crud!”

“Inviso-Bill!”, Fred and Daphne cried. 

“Run! Save your sausages! It’s the Casper High ghost kid!”, Shaggy screamed. He and Scooby scrambled to leap over the counter before lunging through the swinging doors into the kitchen, followed by a crashing clatter of cookware.

“Stan had it right, Danny”, Carl grinned, clapping a hand on Danny's shoulder. “You know how to make one hell of an entrance!”

“I hate you all", Danny deadpanned. 

*-*-*

The crowd had been building for the past two days, numbers increasing in ones and twos, and entire families joining the throng outside the high gates of Northwest Manor. Some had spent their entire lives in the annual pilgrimage, hoping against hope that this, this would be the year they would see more than a stolen fleeting glimpse of the opulence inside the gates. They thronged the narrow boundary of the estate, in makeshift encampments if they had arrived days earlier, or standing in a press against the guarded ropes if they arrived with only hours to spare before the festivities began. Some made the best of it, barbequing in pale imitation of the celebration behind the walls.

The Other flitted through the mass of humanity, unremarked, ignored. To them, she was just another commoner. Soon they would know, they would understand, after they had seen vengeance done.


	5. Chapter 5

The manager of the Twin Bed Motel was slightly stunned, but not arguing. Every room was occupied, two of them by celebrities no less! Minor celebrities, sure, but still famous. Perhaps heard of. Or at least, not wanted by the authorities. In the parking lot, two blue and green vans occupied adjoining spaces.

*-*-*

Fred Jones, Daphne Blake, Shaggy Rogers, Scooby, Carl Kolchak, and Danny Fenton were crowded into Shaggy's motel room. Velma and Marcie had announced they needed to settle in and freshen up, and would join the others presently. Shaggy sat cross-legged on the bed closest to the bathroom, with Fred and Daphne sitting on the bed next to the window. Carl occupied the lone poorly upholstered wooden armchair. 

Scooby sat on the floor, pawing at Carl to determine if he were real.

Danny had turned to his ghost form, and lounged in mid-air above chest of drawers the television sat on, rather unnerving Shaggy. 

“So you’re saying you’re the real Carl Kolchak, the missing reporter and author?”, Fred inquired. “Amazing!”

Kolchak raised his hands, palms up. “I can’t explain it any better than Velma can. Like that fright wig weirdo on The Used To Be About History Channel says about everything: ‘Aliens!’” Scooby poked Carl again. “Stop that!”, Carl complained, pushing Scooby's paw away.

“Rorry”, Scooby apologized.

“And your parents were trying to find out about things mankind was never as meant to know", Shaggy addressed the levitating Danny, who nodded. “And now your girlfriend is possessed by a seriously spooky poltergeist. Like, at least you’ve got something in common.” He laughed nervously.

Danny turned in the air, became human, and landed on his feet. “I don’t need to be lectured by you. I’m going to go look for Wendy. I’m out!”

Carl waved, playing peacemaker. “Now hold on, Danny. Shaggy has a point, if inelegantly expressed. Having three extra sets of eyes, four if you count wonder-mutt over here, looking for Wendy is a good idea don’t you think?”

Danny crossed his arms, unconvinced. “I guess.”

“So it’s agreed: Fred and Daphne, Shaggy and Scooby, will pair up and comb the town. I’ll cruise the downtown, and Danny can go airborne. If any of us spot Wendy, we contact the others.”

“What about Velma and Marcie?”, Fred queried.

Carl scribbled in his notebook, then tore out the page. “We'll leave them a note.”

*-*-*

Marcie Fleach revelled in the cascade of hot water from the shower, luxuriating as it ran through the ringlets of her long brunette hair, rinsing out the shampoo and conditioner. A brief cool draft, and the rattle of shower curtain rings announced Velma as she stepped into the tub with Marcie.

Velma massaged Marcie’s back, and Marcie braced her hands on the tiled wall, leaning forward so Velma could enjoy the rushing spray of hot water. Moments later Marcie practically purred as Velma applied body wash to her back, scrubbing gently. “I’m already clean, you know", Marcie husked. 

A soapy fingertip trailed down her spine. “Uh huh.”

“Is this a hint, or an invitation?”, Marcie purred.

“Isn’t it logical to save water?”, Velma asked innocently.

“Velma Mari Dinkley, your intentions are as pure as unfiltered…unnnh! You’re distracting me!”, Marcie shivered. She turned to face Velma. “Two can play at that game!”

Hot water running down her, steam enveloping her, Velma smiled triumphantly. 

*-*-* 

The remaining members of Mystery Incorporated stood on the concrete path that ran along the motel from door to door, deciding which direction every one would take. A muffled cry of “Jinkies!” from behind Velma's motel room door caused everyone to glance at each other, and color rose in Daphne's cheeks.

“Not even gonna ask", said Danny dryly as he transformed and took to the air.

“I’m with Casper", Shaggy agreed. Scooby nodded.

“Maybe she found a clue?”, Fred ventured hopefully. Daphne pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes closed. 

“Oi", Carl muttered at Fred’s obliviousness, tipping his battered hat forward to shade his eyes. “Remember, Miss Blake", he said as his climbed into and started his beloved Mustang, “at some point you said ‘yes'.”

Daphne went from pinching the bridge of her nose to flipping Kolchak her middle finger. Carl laughed as he pulled away.

*-*-*

Jesus ‘Soos' Alzamirano Ramirez walked the aisles of Ton's Supermarket, pushing a shopping cart, list in hand. “Do-to-doot-doo", he sang tunelessly, “picking up the groceries.” The shopping cart was almost full, mostly with snacks. This was going to be the best Not Allowed Into Northwest Fest Day ever!

Distracted by Mabel’s favorite brand on gummi worms, his cart collided with another shopper's. “Oh, man, sorry about that, dude.” 

“Like, no harm, no foul, right Scoob?”, the skinny goateed man chuckled. The large Great Dane beside him agreed. “Ruh-huh.”

“Dude, did your dog just, like, talk?”, Soos asked.

“Rog? Where?”, Scooby looked around.

“Like, relax, Scoob old pal”, the man in the bright olive t-shirt said. “Question mark here was just asking. Like, who are you?”

“I am a Soos", Soos said with pride. “I’m the handyman up at the Mystery Shack. I work for Mister Pines.”

“M-m-m-mystery S-shack?” Shaggy had a bad feeling about this.

“Yeah, it’s Mister Pines tourist attraction. You should come up and see it. We’re having the Not-Northwest Fest Chili Cook-off tonight.”

“Like, did you say ‘Chili Cook-off’?” 

“Yeah, dude, you should totally come”, Soos suggested.

“Carl did say to look everywhere in town, Scoob”, Shaggy pointed out. Scooby nodded, unsure. 

“My abuelita is making her famous homemade chili concarne con frijoles", Soos admitted with pride.

“Like, count us in! I’m Shaggy, this here is Scooby Doo", he introduced himself. “I make the meanest, five-alarm, hole-in-the-bowl chili!”

“Cool, dude. You can totally ride with me in the pick-up.” Soos eyed Shaggy warily for a moment. “Saaay, you look mightily familiar. Oh, I got it! You look like that food inspector dude on the television! That’s cool.”

Soos and Shaggy paid for their respective groceries.

They were settled in the cab of Soos' battered pickup truck when Soos enthused, “Mister Pines is going to be so stoked a celebrity is coming to the chili cook-off! He’s sure to charge people extra now. And Wendy will be jealous she missed out on seeing a real-live T. V. star!”

“Like, did you just say ‘Wendy'?”, Shaggy asked nervously.

“Yeah, dude”, Soos nodded. “Wendy Corduroy. She works part-time at the Mystery Shack. She’s pretty laid back, always going for adventures with Dipper and Mabel. I get to go sometimes too.”

“Adventures? What kind of adventures?”

“Oh man, all kinds of stuff”, Soos said. “Fighting gnomes, the living wax statues, the time I was turned into a zombie…”

“What?!”, Shaggy freaked out, slamming up against the passenger door. Scooby scrambled into his arms.

“Relax, dudes. Dipper cured me with a spell from his journal”, Soos reassured them. “Oh, here we are! The Mystery Shack!”

Shaggy stared at the rustic, decaying A-frame building with mounting dread, noting the ‘S' had fallen off the word ‘Shack' from the sign on the sloping roof. “Scoob old buddy, I’ve got a bad feeling this is our last chili cook-off.” Scooby whimpered in sympathy.

Cars, pickup trucks, and the odd RV crowded the parking lot. An old man in glasses wearing a fez and a black tuxedo threw open the door to the establishment. “Soos! Its about time you got back! Come on, get a move on! The chili ain’t gonna cook itself.”

*-*-*

The sun had set, and the guests had all arrived. Dipper Pines had carried out his end of the bargain and defeated the curse on Northwest Manor. The celebration could begin in earnest. Preston Northwest smiled tightly, raising a glass of cider in silent toast to a blood-red banner hanging in the shadows. Dipper Pines, his sister and her shabby working class friends would be the last commoners to ever see a Northwest Fest in full swing…


	6. Chapter 6

Danny flitted through the darkening sky, alert of any sign of Wendy.

‘If I was a literal drama queen’, Danny thought to himself, ‘I'd be looking for an audience to perform in front of. Gravity Falls is practically empty, what with the crowd building at-'

The realization hit Danny like a thunderbolt. He knew where he could find Wendy! He swooped to ground level, started running, and became human. Digging his phone out of a pocket, he started to dial Kolchak, and then remembered the reporter still hadn’t bought a cell phone. Growling in frustration, he dialed another number. 

“Velma? Danny. I know where Wendy is! Find Carl and meet me at Northwest Manor!“ He pocketed the phone and leaped…only to crash back to earth. “One of these days I’m going to get control of this going ghost thing”, he grumbled, concentrating. A pulse of ectoplasmic energy, and he was a phantom again.

*-*-*

Velma was just doing up the zipper on her cargo shorts when her phone rang on the chest of drawers. She hurried to grab it before it went to voicemail, fumbled it, and missed the call. “Dang it!”, she muttered, then listened to Danny’s message. “Marcie!”, Velma called.

Marcie stuck her head out of the bathroom, towel around her shoulders. “What's up, V?”

“Grab a shirt! We’re moving.”

“I don’t have my bra on!”, Marcie protested.

Velma tossed a white t-shirt at her girlfriend. “Live free!”, she said as she opened the door. “Grab your phone too." Marcie pocketed her phone, grabbed her sneakers, and had the t-shirt almost half on by the time Velma had the Mystery Machine started and backed out of it's parking stall. Marcie accepted an apology smooch as she pulled down her shirt and buckled up before lacing her shoes. 

“I’m sorry I rushed you, Marcie”, Velma said as she accelerated in a turn out of the motel parking lot. “Call Fred or Daphne on my phone, find out where they are. We'll try to meet them after we locate Carl.” Marcie nodded, activating Velma’s phone and dialling.

*-*-*

On the sidewalk outside the motel, Leon Thompson stood stock still. The guys: Robbie, Lee, and Nate would never believe him. He knew, without the shadow of a doubt, he had seen the holy grail. “I saw her boobs", he whispered to himself in disbelief. “Whoa!”

*-*-*

Kolchak and Velma passed each other a block apart, going in opposite directions, catching a glimpse of each other. Waving and flashing headlights, they navigated to meet driver to driver in the middle an intersection.

“Danny found Wendy”, Velma informed him. “He’s headed for Northwest Manor!”

“I’m on my way", Carl nodded, accelerating out of the intersection. 

Marcie hung up Velma’s phone. “Fred and Daph are at the museum.” Velma nodded, flooring the gas pedal.

*-*-* 

Soos stared down into the slowly roiling miasma that bubbled softly on the stove in the kitchen of the Mystery Shack, wisps of eye-stinging vapor drifting up from the thick mahogany colored paste. “Dude, it’s burning my eyes!”, he congratulated. “Even abuelita thinks it has a chance of winning.”

“Si”, Soos' matronly grandmother agreed amiably.

“Like, I’m glad you approve, Soos", Shaggy laughed. “Your grandma's traditional Mexican chili is some serious competition, right Scoob?” Scooby nodded enthusiastically, slurping the remnants of the bowl of chilli cradled between his paws clean. One could almost hear the imaginary whistle that would have blasted steam out of the Great Dane's ears, his eyes watered so fast.

Stan Pines sniffed the aroma wafting out of the large kettle Shaggy was cooking his five alarm, hole-in-the-bowl chili in. “What we can’t eat, we can use as paint stripper", he suggested.

Shaggy proudly ladled out three bowls. Stan scooped out a spoonful, blew on it to cool it slightly, then ate.

And suddenly clutched at his throat. “Oh my god! Kill me! It burns! Water! Water!”, he gasped. 

Soos sampled Shaggy’s chili. Sweat beaded his forehead immediately. “Whew! That’s some hot chili, Mister Shaggy!”, he commented, then passed out.

“Is a little mild", Soos' abuelita remarked quietly after she tried Shaggy's offering, with a tiny polite belch. “’Scuse me.”

*-*-*

Carl Kolchak pushed his Mustang to the edge of his driving skills, the one hundred and twenty horsepower engine howling as he sped up the winding road that led to Northwest Manor, headlights slicing through the gloom. The threatening storm broke overhead, lightning flickering.

He swerved around a hairpin corner, and fishtailed to a stop outside the main gates. 

Danny was nowhere to be seen.

*-*-*

Danny hovered invisible above the crowd milling on either side of the tall gates in the pouring rain, searching, seeking the telltale flash of red hair that would identify Wendy to him. Twice he thought he’d spotted her, but discovered instead Wendy’s father and one of her brothers.

Screams, diffused by distance and intervening walls. Coming from inside Northwest Manor.

Danny saw Kolchak skid to a stop in his Mustang, and made a decision.

He turned and flew toward the mansion, ghosting thought the wall to be greeted by a vision of hell.

*-*-*

The great clock struck midnight.

“A forest of death, a lesson learned, And now the Northwest Manor will burn!”, the ghost of Archibald Corduroy boomed, triumphant, surrounded by the victims of his curse, all turned to solid wood. A blaze leapt up from the fireplace on the staircase landing, incinerating the Northwest family portrait.

“Hey, ugly!”, Pacifica yelled. “Turn everybody back and let them go!”

“You would seek to escape your fate? Then a Northwest must open the gates!”, the spectral lumberjack intoned.

“You don’t think I will?”, Pacifica challenged the ghost. “Because I’ll do it!” 

A section of floor lifted, revealing Preston and Priscilla Northwest, and their butler, cowering in the entrance to their panic room. “Pacifica?! What are you doing?! Get in here! We have enough finger sandwiches and water for me, you, and the butler to survive for at least a week!” Then behind his hand, Preston stage whispered, “We'll eat the butler.”

“No!”, Pacifica defied him.

“Get in here now!”, Preston commanded, ringing the hated golden bell. “Dingly-dingly! Is this thing broken?”, he demanded, seeing Pacifica struggle to resist him, trembling, her hand gripping the lever for the main gate tightly.

“Our family name is broken!”, Pacifica yelled, “And I’m going to fix it!”

She threw the lever, opening the main gates to the mass of townsfolk waiting in the rain outside, who surged onto the manor grounds, heading for the front double doors of the grand log-built house.

Archibald Corduroy faded from sight, his spirit laid to rest. “I feel…lumber justice.” The axe that had split his skull and killed him so long ago fell to the floor, embedding the edge in the expensive parquet flooring, standing upright. All the victims of the curse regained their human forms, breathing in great sighs of relief.

Dipper and Pacifica took a moment to congratulate each other on resolving the danger to Northwest Manor, defiantly and deliberately soiling an expensive designer carpet, before Pacifica said she had to find a member of the household staff to clean up the mess.

The townsfolk surged into the great hall, consuming the fine food and drink indiscriminately, guzzling the cider from the fountain. Among them was Carl Kolchak, searching frantically for either Wendy or Danny. 

Danny saw her first, striding like a conquering queen. Her red hair flowed and waved like a banner in a wind only she perceived. He materialised and landed in front of her.

“Wendy? It’s Danny. You don’t have to do this!”

Cold eyes regarded him from Wendy's face. “There is no sure foundation set on blood, no certain life achieved by others death", the discordant polyphony recited.

“Hey, Wendy, you made it!”, Dipper cheered. “Have some punch.”

“Kid, I don’t know who you are, but stay away from her”, Danny warned. 

Dipper stepped up to the older teen. “I don’t know you either, but you don’t get to tell me to stay away from my friend, so back off!”

Ectoplasmic vapor wafted from Danny's lips. “Oh no…”

Archibald Corduroy’s axe flipped through the air to slap into Wendy’s outstretched hand. “And many strokes, though with a little axe, hew down and fell the hardest-timber oak.” Eyes of blue flame fixed on Pacifica Northwest.

“Wendy! What are you doing?”, Dipper cried. Danny went ghost.

The axe swung, aiming at Dipper. “The croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.” Danny lunged, turning Dipper as ghostly as he was, both of them passing through the floor into the basement. 

“Whoa!”, Dipper yelled. “That’s just wrong!” Danny released him, and Dipper became human again. “What’s going on?!”

Danny hovered above the floor, visible, intangible. “I don’t have time to explain. I’ve got to stop my girlfriend from wiping out your girlfriend's entire family!” He shot up through the floor. 

*-*-*

Mabel couldn’t believe her eyes. Wendy had just tried to chop Dipper in half, but a freaky super-cute ghost boy had saved him. “Wendy! What’s gotten into you?”

“What are you doing, sister? Killing swine”, Wendy laughed in two voices.

Mabel was lifted aside by a man in a wrinkled suit and a rumpled straw hat. “Not the time or place, little lady. Run along with your friends”, he suggested. “Deirdre Corduroy, release your victim!”, Kolchak bellowed.

Danny shot up from beneath the floor, fists wreathed in ectoplasmic flames. “Let her go!”

Deirdre/Wendy shrieked a banshee howl of rage, shattering glasses and blowing out every window in the great hall of Northwest Manor. “My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, or else my heart concealing it will break!”

*-*-*

Dipper had found the stairs up from the basement, and almost collided with Pacifica, who shrieked for a moment, then clung to Dipper when she realized who it was.

“It’s alright, Pacifica. We beat one ghost, we can beat another”, Dipper reassured the frightened heiress.

“I’m not used to this, Dipper! You are!”, she wailed. 

In the great hall, the spirit possessing Wendy Corduroy howled again.


	7. Chapter 7

The invited guests fled, scattering for their chauffeured limousines, abandoning Northwest Manor. The townsfolk stampeded out right behind them. The only ones remaining were Mabel, Candy Chiu, and Grunda, who was being staunchly defended by Marius von Fundshauer. Carl Kolckak stood between the cowering heiress to the Northwest family, flanked by Danny Fenton in his ghost form, fists enveloped by pale blue ectoplasmic flames.  


Before them stood Wendy Corduroy, possessed by her ancestor Deirdre, wielding the axe that had slain the builder of Northwest Manor, Archibald Corduroy.

“Name the play, Carl!”, Danny snapped. “We're running out of time!”

“Quarterback sneak", Kolchak yelled, clamping his hat down. “Keep the ghost busy while I find her grave!”

Deirdre/Wendy pointed at Pacifica dramatically. “As for the brat of this accursed duke, whose father slew my father, he shall die!” 

“Hey lady!”, Grunda bellowed, “Pick on someone your own size!” A full silver punch bowl was heaved at Deirdre/Wendy, the contents soaking her to the skin, slicking her flowing red mane in limp, sodden tendrils down her back.

“Yeah, leave Pacifica alone, and let Wendy go!”, Mabel shouted, fireplace poker in hand.

”I suggest an immediate tactical withdrawal", Candy suggested quietly.

Carl pelted down the hallway, Dipper in his wake, who gripped Pacifica’s hand tightly, pulling her along.

“Wait, wait, wait!”, Pacifica protested. Carl and Dipper paused in their flight. “I can’t run in this stupid dress!” With no other warning, she bent and lifted the hem of her violet bespoke designer gown, and tore it, splitting it up to her waist.

“I didn’t know you wore a garter belt and stockings", Dipper observed, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I didn’t know Pacifica had such nice legs”, he whispered under his breath.

Pacifica took Dipper’s hand again. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

A shriek of rage from the great hall reminded them why they were running.

*-*-*

Danny thrust his flame-wreathed hands in front of him, a blast of eldritch energy jetting towards the possessed Wendy, enshrouding her in ectoplasm, throwing her back through the air to skid along the hardwood floor. “I’m so sorry, Wendy”, Danny pleaded.

Deirdre/Wendy rose, seemingly unaffected, lifting from the floor. *Are you quite finished?*, Deirdre inquired mockingly.

“Hey, that’s not Shakespeare!”, Danny yelped.

*Indeed it isn't*, Deirdre nodded. *No more matinee performances. Time for the final curtain!* A blast of incandescent ectoplasm burned Wendy’s clothes to ash. *Vengeance will be mine, and no tainted half-breed will stop me!* She launched herself at Danny, axe cocked over her shoulder, eyes blazing in white hot fury.

Instinctively, Danny threw up a shield, deflecting the axe blow, and countered with a purely human right cross to Wendy’s jaw, snapping her head back.

The spiritual blowback stunned everyone.

Wendy plummeted unconscious towards the hard floor below, the spirit possessing her literally knocked out of her. Danny caught her just before impact. “I’m so sorry, baby, so sorry, I didn’t want to, I had to”, he apologized, holding her tight.

Mabel, Candy, and Grunda tore down one of the surviving drapes, offering it to Danny to wrap Wendy in. She came to while he was doing so, freeing her right arm, gently wiping away Danny's tears. “It’s okay, man. You did what you had to. You saved me.”

*Not yet he hasn't!*, Deirdre Corduroy screamed. Archibald Corduroy’s axe shot through the air, aiming at Danny.

Danny’s eyes flashed unearthly bright green, hair blazing white, and the axe stopped as if embedded in solid maple. Deirdre had less than a second to understand she had made a monstrous tactical error.

The weapon whipped back at her, keening through the air, passing right through a shrieking Deirdre, to bury itself in the wood paneled wall. “Lady, you're a real pain in the axe.”

Deirdre fled, screaming, and Wendy playfully slapped Danny chest. “Dude, that was awful. Spear me any more of your lame puns.”

*-*-*

“What…are…we…looking…for?”, Pacifica panted as they ran down the ground floor hallways of Northwest Manor. 

Kolchak trotted to a stop, resting a moment, gulping breaths. “A grave", he wheezed. “In the new wing of the house.”

Dipper flipped through the pages of his journal, searching for a clue. “You’d think…after all…the running I did…this summer…I’d be in better shape than this.”

Pacifica brushed blonde hair out of her eyes. “I don’t know about a grave, but there’s a memorial fountain by the new wing.”

Carl and Dipper glanced at each other. “Whattaya think, kid?”, Carl panted.

“Any port in a storm", Dipper replied as Deirdre appeared at the end of the hall.

Pacifica pulled at Dipper. “Faster, must run faster!”

“Which way?”, Carl barked. Pacifica pointed at a courtyard through French double doors, an elegant statue in a fountain visible through the rain. They pushed through the doors, alert for any clue that would reveal the hidden grave. Carl noticed the statue was pointing at an ornate marble bench near the wall to the right of the doors they had come through. A wide marble bench.

“Your grandfather Guildenstern was a sick bastard, kid", Carl pointed out as he ran over to the tomb. He heaved at the slab that sealed away the mortal remains of Deirdre Corduroy. It refused to budge.

“Come on, come on", urged Dipper. “She’s getting closer!”

“You two could give me a hand", Kolchak groaned, heaving at the lid lf the marble sarcophagus. Dipper and Pacifica leaned on the edge Carl was shoving. The old mortar cracked, shifted, and then the entire lid slid free, falling and breaking into large chunks between the tomb and the manor.

The mortal remains of Deirdre Corduroy were exposed for the first time in seventy five years. The stench of old decay assaulted their nostrils, and Pacifica coughed. Unfortunately for Dipper, this wasn’t the first corpse he’d seen this summer, but it was his first soap mummy. Carl swallowed hard. And then started to recite the last rites he’d learned decades previously when he'd laid a zombie to rest in Chicago. 

*My vengeance will not be denied!*, the ghost of Deirdre screamed, and a jagged bolt of blue-white ectoplasm leapt from her astral form to her corpse, throwing Carl, Dipper, and Pacifica aside in the blast, Dipper doing his best to absorb Pacifica’s fall.

Carl groaned as he sat up. “Oh yeah, I’m gonna be feeling that in the morning.” He looked around. “Anyone seen my hat?”

An evening-gloved hand held it aloft like Excalibur. “Did you mean this rat's nest?”, Pacifica sneered. Carl snatched it from her and jammed it on his head, as a gasping moan sounded from the open sarcophagus. 

“That’s our cue to run", Carl said, pushing Dipper and Pacifica back into the manor.

*-*-*

The Mystery Machine was overcrowded. Fred and Daphne braced themselves as best they could in the converted living space, Marcie in the passenger seat, and Velma driving as they charged up the rain-slick road that led up the hill to Northwest Manor. Three luxury sports cars and a handful of limousines sped past in the opposite direction.

Velma downshifted and stepped on the gas to round a hairpin turn, then changed gears to accelerate up the hill. “Wow, Velma, you’ve gotten good at this”, Daphne complimented. 

“Thanks. I took an offensive driving course last year”, Velma said. She slewed left into the Northwest Manor driveway, the great gates standing open, townsfolk running past. 

“I think we missed the party, V", Marcie said.

*-*-*

Preston and Priscilla Northwest lifted the hatch to the panic room, staring at the ruin of the great hall. Only a handful of townie children remained. Furniture was overturned, draperies torn down. Pacifica was nowhere to be seen.

“This is a disaster!”, Priscilla wailed. “We'll be the laughingstock of the social scene!”

Running footsteps caused Preston to cower slightly, the hatch bumping his wife’s head. A rumpled man, definitely not on the guest list sprinted through the room, followed by that Pines troublemaker who was towing Pacifica with him.

“Pacifica! Get in here now!”, Preston commanded. Pacifica glared at him as she ran past, deliberately disobeying him, twice in one night! Unacceptable!

“That girl is going to be harshly reminded of her place in this family!”, Preston told his wife.

Priscilla nodded. “Entirely too wilful recently.” 

Then they saw why Pacifica was running, and slammed the hatch shut, locking bolts sliding home. 

*-*-*

Dipper saw his sister, and her friends Candy and Grunda helping Wendy to her feet. He’d have to ask later why Wendy was wrapped in a curtain, and who the white-haired teen next to her was. All he could do now was warn them. “Run! Undead actress in hot pursuit!”

Mabel took one look at the bloated horror that lumbered down the hallway behind her brother. “Run!!”, she hollered at her friends.

Danny scooped Wendy up in his arms. “Close your eyes. I don’t have time to explain.” 

Wendy peeped over his shoulder, then slapped him like a riding horse on the back. “Go, go, go, go now!”

Two running steps and Danny was airborne, both of them going ghost just before passing through the wall to see the Mystery Machine slide to a stop just in front of Carl's Mustang. Someone inside threw open the side doors, and the three young girls leaped in, not caring who they landed on. Fred got one good look at the nightmare that appeared in the doorway of Northwest Manor. “Punch it, Velma!”, he yelled, slamming the doors shut.

Carl threw open the passenger door, diving inside to get behind the wheel, with Dipper and Pacifica piling in behind him. The powerful engine roared to life, and gravel spat from under the spinning wheels as Kolchak stood on the gas pedal.

Danny flew above the two speeding vehicles as they raced down the mountain. Ahead lay the hairpin curve. Both car and van were going far too fast to make the turn…

*-*-*

“Velma, what are you doing?!”, Marcie screeched. “Turn, turn, turn!”

“I have a plan!”, Velma yelled in reply, spying her destination downhill through the trees. “The Mystery Shack appears to be a nexus of paranormal activity. They might have something useful there!” The edge of the road came up too fast. “Hang on, everyone!”

The Mystery Machine rocketed off the road into the forest.

Kolchak saw what Velma intended. “Buckle up, kids!”, he yelled just before the Mustang followed the Mystery Machine off the edge of the road. 

Dodging trees to keep the car and van in sight, Danny followed them. “What are they thinking?!”, Wendy laughed. 

The nightmare revenant pursued all of them.

*-*-*

Rocks clattered off the undercarriage of the Mystery Machine, branches swiping and scraping the front and sides, larger ones snapping off in their wake, the headlamps giving just barely enough warning for Velma to avoid smashing headlong into massive treetrunks. Fred and Daphne bounced and jolted in the back, and three young girls squealed and screamed every time the van bounced hard, half in excitement, half in terror. One large branch starred and cracked the windshield in front of Marcie, making her yelp in surprise. 

In the Mustang, Kolchak trailed Velma’s path of destruction, Dipper doing his best to shield Pacifica from bits of debris that passed through the windshield that had been shattered by a rock thrown by the undead nightmare behind them.

The forest suddenly thinned out, and the partially full parking lot of the Mystery Shack was dead ahead. Velma stood on the brake, slewing right so Carl wouldn’t rear-end her. The pre-teen in the frilly pink gown popped up, apparently none the worse for wear. Her larger friend in a gold sheath spoke up in a deep bass voice: “That was intense!”

“I’m Mabel”, pink dress introduced herself. “Get Pacifica to the Bottomless Pit. I’ve got to get something! I’ll meet you there!” Mabel threw herself out of the van, landing on her face. “I’m alright!”

“Which of you is Pacifica?”, Daphne asked the two remaining girls. 

“I’m Candy”, the Asian girl in green said, “and this is Grunda.”

“Pacifica is with Dipper”, Grunda volunteered.

“Who’s Dipper?”, Fred inquired. 

“Mabel’s twin brother”, Candy explained, as though to a simpleton.

“Where is Dipper?”, Fred asked, an exasperated edge to his voice.

“With Carl”, Marcie said, pointing. Everyone left piled out of the Mystery Machine. 

“Danny!”, Velma called, “Meet us by the Bottomless Pit!”

Kolchak ran up, kids in tow. “I hope you have a plan. Mine was a bust.”

“We have about thirty seconds to come up with one", Marcie advised.

“I know what to do”, Dipper announced. “Do you trust me, Pacifica?”

“What?!”

“Do you trust me?”

Pacifica looked into Dipper's eyes. “Yes!”

*-*-*

Deirdre was tired. But her prey was cornered, near the pothole reputed to be bottomless, held by the on far side by the hybrid. Good. He’d seen sense. 

Her mouldering vessel protesting, Deirdre leapt over the pit to land in front of them. *Give me the whelp.*

The white-haired stripling glared at her. “Only if you promise to never possess Wendy ever again.”

Deirdre scoffed dismissively. *As you wish. My vengeance is for the Northwest’s, not my own kin.*

Danny nodded, eyes flaring green.

“Now!”, Wendy yelled.

Something shot through the air, a sound like a fishing reel playing out, the object passing right through the youth to smash Deirdre in her rotting face, knocking her back, off balance, stumbling into the pit. 

Her scream of denial followed her. All the way down.

“GRAPPLING HOOK!”, Mabel crowed in triumph, pumping her fist.

Kolchak carefully peered over the side into the void. “You don’t think she'll come back?”, he asked no-one in particular.

Dipper shrugged. “I doubt it. Nothing alive has ever reappeared.”

“C'mon, Wendy. We have some clothes you can borrow", Marcie said. “V, the next time you plan to drive like a maniac, warn me?”

“Yes, dear", Velma said, kissing Marcie on the cheek.

“Wait, Wendy is naked?!”, Dipper gasped. “When did, how did…?” He missed Pacifica glaring at him jealously. 

“We'll explain later, bro-bro", Mabel said, her mouth full.

“Are…are you eating dog treats?”, Dipper asked. 

“They’re pretty good”, Mabel pointed out. “I found them in Velma’s van. Want some?”

“Ew. No. Thank you.” 

The back door to the Mystery Shack opened. “What in blazes is going on out here?”, Stan demanded.


	8. Chapter 8

The Not-Northwest Fest Chili Cook-off had been closed down for an hour before the defeat of the Ghost of Northwest Manor, but there was still an impressive surplus of several styles of chili. Exhausted and ravenously hungry, the veterans had gathered in Stan Pines living room, bowls of chili in hand. 

Mabel had loaned Pacifica leggings and a light sweater decorated with a cartoon cat face to replace her defiled designer gown, accepted with grudging thanks. Wendy had borrowed a pair of shorts from Marcie and a t-shirt from Velma. 

Stan sat in his chair, listening while the various parties of the nights goings on related their part in events, and how they correlated. Fred, Daphne, Velma, and Marcie occupied the sagging couch, while Danny and Wendy occupied the rug by the fireplace. Shaggy and Soos sat on chairs brought in from the kitchen. Scooby sat near Mabel, who slipped him Scooby Snax. Candy and Grunda sat beside Mabel on the floor.

Danny went to the kitchen when Wendy asked him to bring her a drink to cut the spice of the chili. Dipper followed him. 

“So you're Wendy's new boyfriend”, he began. “I’m Dipper Pines. We haven’t been introduced.” 

Holding two Pitt sodas, Danny regarded Dipper for a moment. “Danny Fenton.” A pause. “Wendy told me you had a crush on her. Is this going to get weird?”

“How did Wendy end up naked at the Northwest Fest?”

“It just got weird”, Danny frowned.

Dipper retrieved a soda for himself, opening it. “’Weird’ describes my entire summer vacation so far. Surprise me.”

“Wendy got possessed by the ghost of her Shakespeare-obsessed actress ancestor, and tried to wipe out the Northwest’s”, Danny explained.

Dipper took a sip of his drink. “That’s where I came in, after being turned to wood and then saved by the girl who teased my sister all summer.”

“The blonde?” Dipper nodded. “Huh. Long story short, the ghost got mad, burned off Wendy’s clothes, and we fought. I won and freed Wendy.”

“Does Wendy know she lost her hat?”

“It’s in my motel room”, Danny confessed, wincing.

“You had white hair at the Northwest’s”, Dipper pointed out.

A pulse of white light. “I can turn into a phantom.”

“Not even the worst thing I’ve seen tonight. I’m getting jaded, and I’m not even thirteen”, Dipper deadpanned, then smiled at Danny. “You did right by Wendy. That’s all I need to know.”

“We cool?”, Danny asked, holding out his drink in a toast.

“We cool”, Dipper confirmed, tapping cans. “We better get back before Wendy thinks I tossed you in the Bottomless Pit.”

*-*-*

Kolchak sat on the couch on the porch, staring at the tree-shadowed horizon. False dawn had just begun to paint the eastern sky. Stan stepped out on the porch, a can of cheap beer in either hand. Sitting on the couch beside Carl, he silently handed him a can. A pop-hiss as the can was opened. Then another as Stan opened his.

“You’re a sneak, and a liar, and a thief, Kolchak”, Stan said after a moment. “You bring nothing but trouble, and you hang out with a legitimate freak show.

But you saved the kids. You could have saved your own hide, but you made sure the kids were safe. Those kids are a massive pain in my ass, and they're underfoot all the time, Dipper with that book he carries around, Mabel with her pet pig. But they're the only family I have left.

You’re welcome here anytime.” 

Stan got up and shuffled inside. Carl remained on the couch, thinking, sipping the cheap beer.

*-*-*

Stan eventually sent the kids to bed, Dipper retreating to the living room couch to escape the impromptu girls sleepover that had taken over the loft bedroom. Mabel had volunteered his bed for Pacifica to sleep in. They both lay awake for some time, thinking about each other.

Carl gave Danny and Wendy a lift back to the motel, with Velma ferrying her old friends in her van to the same location. Early morning goodnights were said, with Carl driving home, and the couples retreating to their own rooms.

Exhausted, Velma and Marcie crawled into bed dressed in t-shirts and panties, snuggling close Under the covers.

Danny was slightly shocked when Wendy slid into bed beside him, having claimed one of his t-shirts and a pair of boxers to sleep in. They kissed passionately, caressing each other, Danny gently inspecting the bruise on Wendy’s jaw. It took her a while to convince him she was alright. 

“I still want make outs", she said sleepily. “Later.” Wendy rolled over to be the ‘little spoon'. Danny finally relaxed, arm draped over Wendy's waist, and drifted off to sleep.

*-*-*

It was cold here. Monochromatic, varying shades of grey. 

“Well, Presto, you really screwed up", Bill Cipher cheerfully announced. “All you had to do was let one little virgin sacrifice happen, a virgin sacrifice I spent SEVENTY-FIVE YEARS SETTING UP, and you screw it up by letting a bunch of amateurs escape with the virgin!”, Bill raged, flames leaping from his single eye as he loomed over the cowering oligarch.

“Well, the ghost who cursed the family, that had to be dealt with, or -", Preston Northwest babbled.

“YOUR FAMILY WOULD STILL BE WEARING ANIMAL SKINS AND SHOVELLING SHIT OUT OF THE STREET IF IT WASN’T FOR ME!”, Bill thundered. “EVERYTHING YOU HAVE IS BECAUSE OF ME!”

“Yes, Bill. You're right of course", Preston apologized. 

Bill floated in an orbit around Preston. “Big things are happening, Presto, big things! Old friends are coming home, and Big Changes are going to be made to management in your dimension! Yessirree-bobs-your-uncle, things are going to change!”

*-*-*

Curled up in his junkyard shack, Fiddleford Hadron McGucket stared at the repaired laptop. “It’s a-comin'. The rust-bucket is a-comin', and his single eye will see it a-comin'…”, he whispered again and again into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for the second adventure!
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> What did Old Man McGucket mean about the rust-bucket? 
> 
> Stay tuned...


End file.
